


holding on for tonight

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alcohol, College, Drunk Sex, Hook-Up, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7171832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>one-two-three, one-two-three, drink</i>
</p><p>Daehyun hooks up with Junhong. Repeatedly. He never meant for feelings to get involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding on for tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostblue (fictionalaspect)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/gifts).



> happy birthday, c! if this is not appealing to you at all please let me know omg i'm happy to write you something different

_What are you doing right now?_  


The text comes, innocuous in its form, but nevertheless the five little words send Daehyun’s thoughts spinning as he grapples his mind for an appropriate response. Should he respond immediately? Should he let the sender stew in apprehension as he waits? Is there a picture Daehyun can send instead as an answer that is evidence of his wit, casual interest and careful apathy?

Music pounds all around him and lights flash in time to the beat, illuminating the crush of bodies before the stage in its pulses. The club Jongup brought him to tonight is a young, college-aged crowd, the kind of place with sticky floors and fingerprint smudges on the mirrors in the bathroom. It smells like spilled vodka and bleach.

Daehyun huddles himself against the bar to hunch over his phone, the words swimming before his eyes. He’d lost Jongup after the third shot of alcohol that felt like fire going down his throat. His fingers send a response before his brain catches up with the action:

_Not much. Out with friends._

Almost immediately, his phone lights up in his hand. _Wanna come over?_

Daehyun sighs, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He does. He does want to come over, but he shouldn’t. Part of the reason he is out now is to forget about the boy at the other end of the text.

“Buy you a drink?” someone shouts at him over the music, knocking shoulders against Daehyun. He turns to look, and it’s a vaguely familiar boy who might or might not be a student in his psychology lecture. The other boy grins at him, his cheeks red and eyes glazed.

“No thanks,” Daehyun declines politely, and the boy shrugs, making his way down the bar to someone else. Daehyun rolls his eyes at the behavior before realizing how hypocritical it is for him to do so. His phone lights up again. 

_Come over_ , the message reads. He’d evidently waited too long to respond. 

Daehyun closes his eyes as he hears those words in his mind, and a shiver rolls down his back.

He never can deny Junhong anything.

.

Junhong had greeted him at the door without a shirt on, standing there only in jeans and smirking when he noticed Daehyun’s eyes glued to the hard muscles of his stomach. From there, it had probably been habit that brought Daehyun into the dorm room, habit that made Daehyun lose his clothing so quickly, habit that brought them crashing against each other on Junhong’s squeaky twin bed.

Junhong kisses him with an open mouth, his breath hot against Daehyun’s skin. He likes lying between Daehyun’s legs and pinning Daehyun by the hips and trailing hard kisses down the side of his neck until Daehyun is bruising and begging, cups the side of Daehyun’s face to mouth at his jawline. Daehyun’s hands roam Junhong’s sides, kneading the flesh there, as Junhong presses against him in a long, slow grind. The fabric of Junhong’s jeans scratches against the bare skin of Daehyun’s inner thighs, and Daehyun releases an embarrassingly guttural moan.

“Can’t wait for me, huh?” Junhong whispers huskily.

Daehyun suddenly pictures Junhong during the class they share -- a food studies course that Daehyun was taking to round out his minor and Junhong was taking to explore what major he’d eventually choose. This Junhong is quiet and studious. He stammers when the professor calls on him. He shares a glance with Daehyun when they both find something funny, but they don’t sit together, usually. Daehyun arrives too late to have a choice in his seating, and Junhong never seems to remember to save him one. It’s just as well, since their next classes are on opposite sides of the campus from each other, and Daehyun can’t linger to chat.

He’d expected Junhong to be the quiet sort, a homebody, perhaps. He looks innocent, with those bright eyes and that sweet smile. His shy demeanor during class finishes the wholesome image.

Then, they’d run into each other out dancing. Turned out Jongup was a mutual friend. Daehyun had been drunk, and they’d slept together that first night, and then it became a thing, on the weekends. To text each other to come over, to sleep together, to leave in the morning. Daehyun craved the way Junhong made him give him everything he had, the way Junhong curled around him like a shield when they were done. His gentle attentions when they were both exhausted. 

Craves.

Daehyun, for all he knows how to talk, could never figure out the right words to say to Junhong, who is broad-shouldered and beautiful, bold and bright like a strike of lightning in the middle of a storm.

But it's just sex to Junhong.

“Yeah,” Daehyun says, pushing his hips up to meet Junhong’s. “Can’t wait.”

.

“Jesus,” Youngjae says, pressing a finger against a bruise forming on the side of Daehyun’s neck. “Did he try to suck your blood, too?”

Daehyun bats Youngjae’s searching fingers away, keeping his face buried in his arms.

“You know the counter is probably filthy,” Youngjae points out helpfully.

The coffeeshop where Daehyun has escaped to the morning after buzzes with the patronage of the before-brunch crowd, and Youngjae sits next to Daehyun on a barstool at the counter, his green apron crinkling in his lap.

“Aren’t _you_ in charge of cleaning it?” Daehyun asks, groaning as he lifts his head up finally. The morning is too bright, and everything is loud, and he’s not sure why he feels so shitty when he only had those few shots with Jongup early in the night. He’d woken up and helped himself to the shower on Junhong’s floor; it was early enough that no one else was in the bathrooms, and he could examine the bruises Junhong had left on his body in the mirror. The teeth marks on the crest of his hipbone were his favorite.

“This is why I’m saying it’s probably filthy,” Youngjae explains.

“I’m a mess,” Daehyun says. “I feel so stupid. I hate feelings, Youngjae. Why couldn’t I just keep not having feelings for him? Then everything would be fine.”

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel about him?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll hate me.”

“He won’t hate you for being honest with him. He might want to stop messing around--”

“I don’t want us to stop messing around,” Daehyun whines. “I like messing around with him. I just want -- more.”

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says softly, “then it’s not messing around.”

Daehyun bites his bottom lip, still tender from kissing Junhong all last night, emotion welling up suddenly and dangerously inside of him. Daehyun forces it back down. “I know,” he whispers.

.

_What are you doing right now?_

Daehyun peers at the message and furrows his brows in confusion. It’s early afternoon, and the weekend, and he’s in the park trying to catch up on his assigned readings.

 _Studying_ , he responds. _What’s up?_

_Come to the library?_

A sting of hurt lodges itself in his chest. Does Junhong think he’s really so easy that he can simply ask and Daehyun will go to him?

Based on all their previous interactions, Daehyun thinks somewhat bitterly, this is probably exactly what Junhong thinks. He’s not exactly falling over himself to accommodate Junhong’s every request, but he can’t think of any time he’s ever said no to something Junhong wanted. The truth is, Daehyun loves giving in, loves submitting. He just never expected to meet someone he’d like to do that with on a regular basis.

 _I’m in one of the study rooms on the fifth floor_ , Junhong texts next.

Study rooms are private. The doors don’t lock but there are shades on the windows. Daehyun closes the textbook in his lap and starts packing up.

 _Be there in 10_.

.

He finds Junhong in one of the fifth floor study rooms as promised, his nose nearly pressed to the pages of the textbook in front of him on the desk in concentration. The way the sunlight streams in behind him through the slats of the blinds throws his face into shadow, so he doesn’t see Junhong’s expression when he walks through the door and closes it behind him.

“You’re here,” Junhong says, his voice deep and smooth. He looks up from his textbook, a soft grin on his face.

That look turns Daehyun’s knees into liquid and punches vulnerability into his gut. How soft they could be together, like hazy, warm mornings. Daehyun doesn’t know how to want that, though it calls to him teasingly. He clears his throat and strides to the desk, leaning his hip against it. “Really, Junhong? The library?”

Junhong looks up at him from under his lashes, his mouth slack in confusion. Then his face hardens, closes up. He smirks. “Too cliche?”

“Checked it off my bucket list ages ago,” Daehyun says.

“Well,” Junhong says. “It’s still on mine.”

Junhong hangs one of his bracelets over the doorknob outside the room, and then he backs Daehyun against the edge of the table. They kiss, and Daehyun takes a deep breath and turns around. Junhong folds Daehyun over the table.

He opens Daehyun up like that, with Daehyun’s elbows on the unforgiving wood and his legs spread, their pants spread around their ankles. He pauses to ask if Daehyun is okay. Daehyun nods. They’ve never done this sober, Daehyun realizes distantly, and the thought fractures something in his chest as Junhong presses into him.

Slow and intentional, Junhong hovers over his shoulder, kisses it. “Hyung,” Junhong says, “You’re being really quiet.”

“It’s the library,” Daehyun mumbles back, that ache in his chest spreading all the way down to his toes. Junhong is gentle with his kisses, languid with his thrusts. With one hand, he interlaces his fingers with Daehyun’s, drawing them up by Daehyun’s head and right in his line of sight.

Junhong’s nails are perfectly trimmed and manicured, and their fingers form a pattern, Junhong’s pale skin contrasting with Daehyun’s golden tone. 

Daehyun lets go, draws his hand back to tuck against his side. “Faster,” he urges.

Junhong does as he’s told, and Daehyun closes his eyes, the breath punched out of him.

After a moment, Junhong slows. Stops. Pulls out. The loss of him makes Daehyun groan at the sudden emptiness, frustrated. He opens his eyes. “What are you doing?” Daehyun hisses.

“You’re not into this,” Junhong says, his voice thin. “You’re just lying there. I don’t think--”

“So?” Daehyun asks, missing the way Junhong flinches. He pushes himself onto his hands again. He hears himself say, “I want this. I want you.”

But Junhong is shaking his head. He cleans himself up, shoving the condom and tissues into an extra plastic bag he finds in his backpack before throwing the plastic bag into the bin. Hesitantly, he hands Daehyun a couple of tissues. He says, “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.”

Daehyun slaps his hand full of tissues away, angry and embarrassed, feels his face flaming. He'd come to Junhong only to make a fool of himself. Standing now, he yanks his briefs back up, then his jeans. Ignores the ache in his chest as he slings his own backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever,” he says from between his teeth, as he walks out and leaves Junhong behind him. 

Junhong’s bracelet, when he pulls the door shut, makes a sound like rain against the wood.

.

It’s been two weeks and Junhong hasn’t texted him once. He’s been ignoring him during their shared class, too. Not that Daehyun has been making any attempts, either. So.

There’s that.

Daehyun feels like a rubber band about to snap. Like he’s standing on the knife-point edge of a cliff. It’s an itch he can’t scratch and won’t acknowledge, scared of what it means.

When Jongup asks him if he wants to go out Friday night with the boys, Daehyun doesn’t hesitate to say yes. He dresses in a black singlet and tight jeans with ripped knees and lines his eyes dark, puts gloss on his lips to make them look just-bitten. If only Junhong could see him now.

They pre-game at a bar offering cheap shots before strolling to the club nearby, liquor making their limbs loose. Jongup says, “Junhong wanted to come but said he was too busy with this paper.”

Daehyun smiles at him, his teeth sharp. He says, “I don’t care.”

At this, Jongup raises a brow, but then they’re inside, and the music drowns everything else out. Daehyun loses the group, the knife-edge taunting him, the beat in his blood. He goes to the bar and someone buys him a drink. Daehyun doesn’t stick around to see who. He pushes himself back into the crush of bodies and lets himself be carried away.

Then, he’s in the bathroom kissing someone tall and broad-shouldered in the corner by the sinks. Other club-goers glance at them in disgust as they wash their hands. Daehyun doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. The guy he’s kissing presses him against the wall and the tiles are damp against his back. If he were sober he’d grimace in disgust. If he were with Junhong--

If he were--

His breath hitches once, twice.

The guy stops kissing him. Pulls back to look at him. “What the hell?”

Daehyun turns his face away in shame, but it’s too late. The guy saw. He’s crying.

“You didn’t have to--” the guy starts, looking bewildered. “Shit, don’t cry--”

Daehyun presses his face into his hands, but the movement is too forceful and the world is off-balance and he sinks down to the floor against the wall on his haunches. Now people are looking, and now they’re paying attention.

“I didn’t do anything,” the guy says, obviously to those staring. “I swear to god, I didn’t--”

Footsteps as the guy runs off, and Daehyun's carefully constructed dam around his heart shatters as he sobs against his knees. 

“Uh,” someone says near him. “Should I call security?”

Daehyun shakes his head just as a boy with a familiar voice says, “It’s okay. I got him.”

He raises his head to see Junhong stooping down low to reach for him. Junhong wearing a black v-neck tee that dips low over his chest, jeans that cling like a second skin. He looks amazing.

Daehyun knows his eyeliner is running down his cheeks, that his hair is a mess. He hides his face again behind his hands, shoulders still shaking. “What are you doing here?” he manages to mumble, though it probably comes out garbled. His tongue feels heavy and swollen.

“Jongup said you guys were still out, and I was done with my paper, so.” Junhong’s hands land on his upper arms. “Can you stand?”

“Yes,” Daehyun says. He stands, too quickly. The world swirls around him and if not for Junhong’s steadying grip, he’d have toppled back onto the floor. “I’m drunk,” he says miserably.

“I know, Daehyunnie,” Junhong says, his hand on Daehyun’s upper back, then around his waist. Daehyun sags against him.

Then Daehyun pitches over and vomits into one of the bathroom sinks.

.

He wakes up on a squeaky twin bed in a shirt that is way too large to be his own. A quick check tells him he’s still wearing his briefs. His body feels like someone took a hammer to him.

“Water?” Junhong says when he notices Daehyun is awake. “I’ve got painkillers, too.”

“Just water,” Daehyun says, his voice scratchy. The pain reminds him of his stupidity, so he won’t do anything about that for the moment.

Junhong brings him a glass, and Daehyun sits up against the headboard gingerly. He wonders if he’s still got eyeliner all over his face. The water does down his throat cold and smooth, settling in his empty belly. “Sorry,” he says.

Junhong crawls into bed with him, on the side closer to the wall, sitting on top of the covers. “What for?”

“For, you know, making you take care of me last night.”

Junhong smiles at him, and his eyes are kind. Daehyun wants to sink against him forever. “You don’t have to apologize for that, Daehyunnie,” Junhong says. “I -- like taking care of you.” 

Daehyun stares, heart fluttering in his chest, and the other boy shifts nervously in his seat. 

“Admittedly,” Junhong begins, “I haven’t been doing a very good job of it, though, huh?”

Daehyun looks down at his lap. “No,” he whispers. “But I’m not very easy to take care of.”

“That day at the library,” Junhong says. “I didn’t mean to -- upset you. I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice for us to hang out and study together, maybe. But that -- I messed up, and I’m sorry. And then I got scared. I thought I fucked it up real good.”

Daehyun shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If you’re not enjoying it,” Junhong insists, “then something is wrong.”

Daehyun pulls his knees to his chest, hugging his arms around them. His head pounds, and his palms are sweaty. “I wanted this to be easy,” he says, gesturing between the two of them. He forces himself to say the rest. “But then I wanted more. I didn’t think you’d want the same.”

Junhong smiles again. “How could you have known, when I was being a huge idiot and not confessing?”

“Then I was being an idiot, too,” Daehyun admits. “And I’m sorry.”

“So we’re both idiots,” Junhong says. “This is a promising start to our relationship.”

“You still want us to…?” He can’t keep the surprise from his voice, or from his face. His mouth is slack, forming a round circle.

Junhong flushes, too bright spots of pink high on his cheeks. 

“If you want to,” Junhong says. “Only if you want to.”

.

_What should we do tonight?_

The text comes and Daehyun can’t keep the grin off his face. He types back a quick response as Youngjae from across the table bemoans the loss of their quality friendship time together ever since Daehyun started dating Junhong.

“You should be happy for me!” Daehyun says when he’s sent the message, smile a million megawatts bright. “You’re just jealous because you still can’t figure out if Himchan-hyung is flirting with you or not.”

“Ever since you started dating Junhong, you’ve been insufferable, Jung Daehyun,” Youngjae shoots back.

That night, Junhong comes over to Daehyun’s little off-campus apartment. They order in food and watch a movie on Daehyun’s laptop, gradually shifting on the bed until Junhong is spooned behind Daehyun, his arm draped over Daehyun’s waist. Daehyun hums, pleased with the cuddle-arrangement. Junhong kisses his cheek.

“Do you want to put on another movie?”

“Not really,” Daehyun says. “I’m beat.”

“So sleep,” Junhong says. Daehyun can feel Junhong smile when he turns against the larger boy’s chest, pressing his face against Junhong’s neck. “You want me to stay?” Junhong asks. He always asks, and Daehyun is always relieved when he does so. They aren’t perfect, but they are learning about each other slowly, in all the ways that count.

“ _Yes_ ,” Daehyun says.

Junhong says, “Good, because I’m comfortable here,” and Daehyun drifts off to the sound of Junhong’s heart beating in his chest.

.

   


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya) | [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/andnowforyaya)


End file.
